


believe

by epsiloneridani



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood, Gen, Violence, blood tw, medical trauma (augmentations), nothing worse than is found in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsiloneridani/pseuds/epsiloneridani
Summary: “He’ll be all right,” John says.“I could have killed him.”“You didn’t.” John tilts his head at her and she meets his eyes squarely. “You know what you can do. You just have to trust yourself to do it at the right time, Carris.”“What?”“Just believe.”–Carris-137. Half your strength is your belief.





	believe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: blood, violence, medical trauma (augmentations)

She doesn’t understand.

“It was an accident,” her mother says, all sharp edges and scowls. Her fists are balled up at her sides. There’s a fingerpainted calendar behind her head that Carris thinks could look like her if she was a little looser, a little less lined.

The Principal nods, always so understanding, but there’s fear in his face. The smile he makes is fake. “I know,” he says, glancing to where Carris sits on The Plastic Blue Office Chair and kicks her legs. She smiles at them – hers is  _real_ , she means hers – but they don’t return it. Their voices drop and they step into The Principal’s Office.

Carris frowns and glares at her feet, glares at the chair that sticks to her legs. The nurse’s office is across the hall and she can see one of the other kids there, cupping his hands over his nose and trying to stop the blood from seeping through his fingers. He catches sight of her and starts to cry.

The nurse shuts the blinds.

—-

“I was just playing,” Carris bursts out when she’s strapped into her seat on the way home. Her mother adjusts the mirror to meet her eyes.

“I know,” she says, but she doesn’t really. There’s an aching note of something sad in her voice. “But you have to be more careful.”

“It was just–”

“I don’t want you playing with those kids anymore.”

“But–”

“Not buts.”

Carris slumps in her seat and folds her arms over her chest. The other kids are out on the field now, laughing, chasing.

She never sees them again

—-

The first thing she notices is the silence.

They call the planet  _Reach_. It’s a lot of rolling hills and wide-open skies and angry trainers with even angrier eyes. Carris stays out of their way as much as she can, tries to follow the rules, tries to be  _careful_. When the others elbow her, shove her, she doesn’t push back.

Careful, careful.

When the trainers strike her, shock her, she doesn’t push back.

Careful, careful.

She never pushes back.

Until the day she does.

—-

“He died a soldier,” Mendez tells her, quieter than usual but still seething steel.

“It was an accident,” Carris mumbles, staring at her boots. Her eyes ache from crying. Her chest burns. She scrubs at her face and swallows back the shudder. “I didn’t mean to–”

“He died a soldier,” Mendez repeats. “We honored him as one. And now we move on.”

“I didn’t  _mean to_ ,” she hiccups and maybe it’s because she’s so tired but for an instant she almost thinks Mendez’s voice softens – and Mendez’s voice is  _never_  soft.

“You’re a soldier too,” he reminds and she straightens her spine and lifts her chin to meet his eyes. Earth’s protectors. Earth’s guardians.

Something like pride flashes across Mendez’s face. He rests a hand on her shoulder.

“He did his duty, Carris,” he says. “Now honor his life and do yours.”

—-

“It was an accident,” John tells her when he hears. She’s never spoken to him before today, but she’s seen him around and she remembers him leading them to steal the Pelican, remembers he made sure they all made it home.

“It was years ago,” she says and though she tries to stop it her voice still trembles. Not very brave. Not very strong.

Not worthy of a soldier.

John shrugs. “It still bothers you,” he points out and she’s reminded of the headlock she had Jorge in earlier, remembers that he’s solid and strong too – but human, so human, and she loosened her grip and let him go before they called  _time_.

She remembers the batons, too. She remembers the pain.

And she remembers the rage, rage rumbling through her bones, ripping through her veins. She wonders what would happen if she let it wash over her, wonders what it would be like to sink in and seethe crimson and steel, and her heart thud, thud, thuds in her chest. She blinks and there’s a blue chair and a boy with a bloody nose. She blinks and the blinds slap shut. Too much. Too much to survive.

No one could survive.

“I hurt him,” Carris says quietly. John’s hand lands on her shoulder.

“He’ll be all right,” John says.

“I could have killed him.”

“You didn’t.” John tilts his head at her and she meets his eyes squarely. “You know what you can do. You just have to trust yourself to do it at the right time, Carris.”

“What?”

“Just believe.”

She wonders where he finds that faith.

“Believe,” she repeats, and John nods encouragingly at her and moves off to rejoin his team. Carris balls her hands into fists and swallows back the lump in her throat.

_Believe._

—-

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

She can’t move, can’t raise a hand to help him. Everything is blurry, wobbling and wavering. There’s blood in her eyes, blood on her face, blood streaming from the deep scores in his spine. He thrashes and looses a gurgling scream. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

The sea of white surrounds him.

She can’t see.

The room is silent save the shriek of a machine. His heart shudders – stops – a broken beat.

The number on the screen says  _Spartan-073_.

She blinks. She can’t see. The white coats wheel him away.

Carris stares at the ceiling, tries to remember how to breathe. Her chest burns, burns, aches. White hot rage.

Spartan-073.

—-

They call this a team.

Carris crosses her arms and watches them sleep. Marcus-119. Natasha-121. Numbers. Names. People. Machines.

They call this a team.

“Orders, ma'am?” Marc asks her in the morning, when the cruel sun has risen red behind the jagged ridges. Blood. Blood on her hands, in her eyes. She blinks it away.

“Follow the plan.”

“What if it goes sideways?” Natasha asks.

“Then follow me.”

And they do.

—-

Reach is burning.

Carris staggers to her feet. Her stomach lurches; the ground quakes.

Everything is on fire.

“Marc,” she forces out. She can taste the blood in her teeth. Her ears ring. “‘Tasha. Where in the  _hell_  are you?”

They don’t answer, haven’t answered her the last four times she’s tried, and something sick says it’s because they can’t hear her – not anymore.

Everything is on fire.

Her suit’s containment is shot to hell. Her HUD flickers, flickers, sparks. There’s static shrieking in her ears, broken voices and stuttering screams. There were other Spartans here, standing beside her. Marc. Tasha. And three more. Three more.

Three more.

“Red-Fifteen,” she croaks, knowing he won’t answer, knowing his signal’s dead and gone. “Red-Fifteen, respond.”

Two more.

“Beta-Red, this is Beta-Red Actual.  _Respond._ ”

No more.

“Respond,” Carris croaks, a whisper, a prayer. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Everything is on fire.

_Beta-Red have gone above and beyond but there’s no way out for them. They just bought us our window._

“ _Repond_ ,” Carris snarls, stumbling a step forward. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can barely see. Not enough time to get away, not enough time to make sure they were safe. No way out. No way out. The MAC rounds hit – then hell.

Her voice cracks. “Damn it, Beta-Red,  _respond!_ ”

_“Beta-Red Actual, this is Iron Fist on a final approach. Do you read me?”_

“I read you.” Her chest burns, burns, aches. The ground rumbles, roiling beneath her feet. The armored division is down, they took it down, they made Charlie Company their window, but the Covenant came to the battle prepared for a war. There are more, headed right for her.

Too many to take alone.

_“Beta-Red Actual, can you make the evac site?”_

A lone dot blinks on her cracked viewscreen, a hazy red halo. It’s not far but the fastest path takes her straight through the enemy on approach.

Too many to take alone.

_“Beta-Red Actual?”_

“There are a hell of a lot of Covenant between me and the site,” Carris says. “Get out of here.”

It’s silent for a beat.  _“I’m the last bird you’ll see.”_

“Get out of here,” Carris barks. “I won’t make it in time.”

“You’re a Spartan,” Iron Fist says, and for all the tension and fear there’s not even a hint of defeat.

“What are you saying, pilot?”

_“I’m saying I believe, Beta-Red Actual.”_

It’s an echo and then a pulsing beat, pounding in her skull. Seething crimson. Singing steel. Too much. Too much.

Survive.

Survive.

_“I’ll wait as long as I can. See you on the other side.”_

Reach roils, a rumbling death knell. Her chest burns, burns – rage. Survive. Survive. Carris charges.

Everything is on fire.

—-


End file.
